


Strength and Courage

by Jaeger_Babe



Series: To Hold, To Have Universe [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Intersex Omega Biology, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Romance, Seedy London Fight Clubs, Smut, Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:43:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21579871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaeger_Babe/pseuds/Jaeger_Babe
Summary: Victor’s voice is soft, as if Yuuri were a spooked animal, “I thought you might be upset, which you quite obviously are.”Yuuri can’t help but scoff. He can feel tears welling up in him again, though he’s unable to distinguish them between anger or sadness, he latches onto the easiest one to deal with. “I’m not upset,” he spats. “Afterall, how can I be, when there’s nothing to be upset over.”“Yuuri,” Victor says again, reaching out. “My darling, I know—”“No, you don’t. You don’t know. You can’t possibly know.”There’s silence, where the only sound is the breathing in the room as they stare at one another.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Yuri Plisetsky, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri, Phichit Chulanont/Christophe Giacometti
Series: To Hold, To Have Universe [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1335856
Comments: 53
Kudos: 528





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _“I want you to be my wife… and everything that that means. I know we can never have children. That is a great sadness. But everything else: to love and to cherish and to have and to hold, according to God’s holy ordinance. […] But you never need to be alone. You can be with me always at Shibden. We can navigate this life and everything that it throws at us together. And with God’s blessing… He will give us strength and courage.” — Anne Lister, Gentleman Jack_
> 
> Chapter 2 will be up Sunday at the latest.

_ September 5th, 1813 _

If Yuuri could plan on his Lord Husband to be predictable, he would win this chess match in three moves.

But it only takes one before Makkachin comes bounding into the Library with a joyous bark, followed shortly after by Yuri, clothes covered in ink spots and expression more furious than normal.

“Victor!” He hollers, voice bouncing off the walls of the tall room, “You need to control your damn mut!” 

“Language, Yurio,” Victor chides, not looking up from the board. Makkachin rounds the table, careful not to jostle it, and comes to Yuuri, eager for pats. Yuuri smiles and strokes his hand through Makkachins curls, frowning when he touches wetness. 

“I don’t give a fuck, Victor! Your bloody dog just spilled an entire pot of ink over me and ruined my clothes!”

“You let Makkachin upend an inkwell on you?” Victor asks, laughing.

Yuuri pulls his hand away from the poodle, finding it smeared with ink that had been hidden in the fur. “Makkachin is covered in ink,” Yuuri says before Yurio can start another rant, and pulls out a handkerchief to wipe his hand.

This gets Victors attention as he looks at Yuuri’s hand and reaches towards Makka to inspect. “You dumped ink over my dog?”

Yurio growls, something Yuuri hasn’t heard him do in a long time. “Did you not hear what I just said, you complete fool? Your feral dog attacked _ me _!”

Victor stands and Yuuri knows their game has been forgotten. He sighs and watches as his husband levels off against the younger alpha, both flooding the library with their pheromones — Yurio’s volatile and angry while Victor’s remains calm, but dominating. 

“Be careful how you address me, Plisetsky.”

Yuri scoffs. “I’ll address you however I see fit.”

“I’ll throw you out,” Victor says, stepping forward. Yuuri can’t help but be impressed at how Yurio doesn’t back away, standing his ground and staring up at his older cousin. “Unless you can learn to act civilized.”

“Send me back to my grandfather? My, what a threat.”

“Stop it, both of you,” Yuuri speaks up, trying to intervene.

Neither alphas pay him any attention. They’ve come to stand nearly chest to chest and Yuuri doesn’t think he could handle seeing them physically come to blows if Yurio doesn’t submit. 

“You poured ink on my dog.”

“Your dog attacked me!”

“Makkachin would never!”

Yuuri stands, stepping forward and trying again. “Victor, I think Yurio might be telling the truth. You know Makkachin can be over-excitable sometimes.”

Yurio lets out a laugh. “Listen to your omega, Victor.”

There’s a growl, followed by the blur of sudden movements and before Yuuri can move he sees Yurio on the floor, Victor standing over him with his fist grabbing the front of his shirt and waistcoat.

He watches with his heart in his throat as they stare at each other, Yurio’s chest heaving as he looks up at Victor, anger all but gone from his expression and scent. 

“Victor,” Yuuri tentatively steps forward. “Let him go.” 

Yurio drops the rest of the way onto the floor as Victor releases him, his back landing on the rug with a _ thwump _, though his eyes never stray from Victor. Yuuri hesitates to call it unsettling, the way Yurio so easily submitted, and he drives further thought of it from his kind with the hope that maybe Yurio is mellowing out in one form or another.

The two alphas were no stranger to fights and conflicts, Yuuri knew, and he’s been witness to many of them himself, but as he stares down at Yuri he can’t help but think that this one was about more than Makkachin spilling ink. 

Averting his gaze, Yuuri makes his way to the rope to summon a servant. 

“Yuri,” he says over his shoulder, “You should get changed, have someone see if they can do anything about the ink spots, and—“ he pauses as a footman enters, “Hikaru can you see about getting Makkachin cleaned? She has ink in her fur.”

“Right away, my lord,” he says, bowing and whistling for Makkachin. She bounds over to him, tongue lolling, and follows him from the room. 

When Yuuri turns back to address the alphas, he sees Victor is still standing over Yurio. “Oh,” he doesn’t even try to hide his exasperation, “Victor let him up.”

Victor steps away and Yurio scrambles to stand, jerkily correcting his waistcoat from where his older cousin had pulled it out of place. His eyes flicker back and forth between Victor and Yuuri for a few moments until Yuuri speaks. 

“Are you both quite done, now?”

“Yes,” they both say at the same time, though Yuuri gets the impression that the sentiment is false. 

Then Yurio averts his gaze. “Excuse me, I need to change.”

He doesn’t wait for Victor or Yuuri to nod before turning and nearly fleeing the library, both of them staring at the doorway after him, bemused. 

Yuuri startles when his Lord husband takes his hand, leads him back to where they were playing their chess game. Yuuri settles back on the chaise while Victor takes his seat across from him, and for a moment Yuuri can only stare as Earl Nikiforovs face is illuminated by afternoon sunlight streaming in the windows, peeking between curtains.

He blushes despite himself and turns his eyes back down to their game, though he has a difficult time focusing.

“Now,” Victor says after a moment, “What has you blushing so?”

Yuuri moves his knight. “The light compliments you.”

He doesn’t have to look at his husband to smell how smug he is by the comment. His pride no doubt amplified by his domination over the younger alpha. Victor moves his bishop. Yuuri counters with his own.

“What has you so distracted, my dear?”

“I’m not distracted.”

“You aren’t contrary, either. You should’ve won on that last turn.” Yuuri frowns, realising that, yes, Victor is correct. Yuuri should have won with the last move. He doesn’t know whether to be upset that Victor purposely gave him an opening, or that he let himself be distracted in the first place. The alpha leans forward, concern sweeping over the bond. It makes Yuuri’s hackles rise. “It is Yurio? Are you worried about Doctor Hall visiting?”

Scowling, Yuuri finally looks up. “I’m not worried,” he answers sharply, then looks back down, “I know what the answer will be.”

And he does, Yuuri has received the same answer four times over and he knows better than to expect a different result on the fifth time. Victor hasn’t even noticed any change in his scent, which is one of the first signs.

He had even taken to asking Minami is he’s noticed anything; because if there was someone other than Victor and himself who knew Yuuri’s body and his scent well, it would be Minami. 

But the boy had just shook his head with a small frown, _ “I’m sorry, my lord, nothing’s different as I’ve noticed.” _

“You shouldn’t let it lower your spirits,” Victor offers, reaching across their game for Yuuri’s hand. “You know it’s never been a necessity. I’ll still love you, I’ll always love you even if we never have children.”

Yuuri doesn’t respond, but slips his hand from Victor’s and stands. “Forgive me, I think I’ll go rest before the Doctor comes.”

He makes for the door, not even stopping when Victor softly calls out after him. 

....................

Yuri leans against the door of his room, his heart pounding in his chest and his cheeks burning as his actions catch up with him. His stomach churns and inexplicably his eyes are drawn to the half-burned letter sitting on the desk and the ink spots covering the floor.

He wasn’t quite sure how to explain it, even to himself.

The letter from Otabek was intimate, and much less coded than previous letters. For all the thrill and affection it made him feel, it also filled him with dread, and so, after committing the contents to memory—because he would be remembering those words for as long as he was alone and parted from his companion—and writing out an appropriate reply, he burned it.

Or attempted to.

Victor’s dog had startled him part of the way through, nosing open the door. Yuri had panicked, thinking it was a servant, and burned his hand when he jerked away. 

And of course, when he yelled at the stupid mutt it ran at him, jumping on him and knocking the desk, dumping ink over his reply and both of them.

He hardly thought of what would happen if he confronted Victor—the man loves his dog more than anything else, save his husband—but one whiff of dominating scent had him weak and eager for more, even if it was his cousin’s.

He closes his eyes, tries to forget the absolute thrill that raced through him when his cousin had thrown him to the ground and held him there with his fist and scent. It wasn’t dissimilar to being dominated by Otabek, and all at once Yuri felt sick—and aroused.

For a moment he wholly hates himself, hates Otabek for making him feel this way, and wishes he could be normal.

Then he remembers Otabek’s words, said that day by the river, repeated in the quiet stables, reassured in his bed; _ “It might not be normal for most others, but if it is the way you feel, the way you were born, then indeed, it is normal and natural.” _

Yuri lets out a breath, opens his eyes.

“I am normal. _ We _ are natural.”

He takes a moment to think. He needs to write his letter, needs to apologize to Victor. He needs Otabek to return from Prussia.

But Otabek is returning, and Yuri will be meeting up with him in London in less than a week. The thought nearly takes his breath away.

Slowly, he gets up and makes his way over to the desk, a portion of the letter is still legible and for some reason it makes him feel lighter.

“—_ siousness. Every night here and without you is agony, though my hosts attempted all sorts of amusements to keep even the busiest person entertained through the day and evening my nights are spent entirely alone, save for my thoughts of you, which stray in every direction I please. Though I know you won’t fain admit it, I know you are dying to ask me anyway, so I’ll offer a tease of what kinds of thoughts plague me. You, wrapped in my bedsheets and lustrous in sweat and scent. You, perched on my lap and bare as I work you open just how you like. And your mouth—” _

He knows how the rest of it continues, for he had stared at the words as he worked himself over, imagining it as clearly as if it were happening.

Making up his mind, he takes what’s left of the burned letter and stashes it inside another innocuous letter, also from Otabek, and stuffs the whole thing in a drawer under piles of blank paper. He’ll need to find a better hiding place for these things, but it will have to do for now.

Yuri sits down, pulling over a new piece of paper to start rewriting what had been ruined.

....................

Victor waits in the hall, torn between bursts of pacing and standing still, staring down the corridor towards their room, where Yuuri is with the doctor, seeing is he’s...

Each tick of the clock only makes him more agitated as it echoes up from the entrance hall, and he can sympathize with Yuuri. Not that he blamed the omega for being short in the first place, Victor knows he can be overbearing. 

But the thought that they could be so blessed to have a child, to start a family. It drives Victor wild in more ways than one, and the waiting isn’t helping.

It seems like an eternity before he hears a door open and close. He freezes, watching as Doctor Hall approaches, face as carefully blank as always. 

“Well?” Victor prods, too impatient to deal with niceties.

The doctors expression cracks slightly. She shakes her head. “I am sorry, Lord Nikiforov,” she says and Victor curses. He wipes a hand over his face, and tries to dampen the sadness that washes over him. He suddenly wishes he was down the corridor, comforting his husband. The doctor interrupts his thoughts, by speaking again, “I was wondering if we could talk, my lord? I have a few questions and the Countess was reluctant to answer, as is understandable.”

That makes Victor pause, wondering what questions she would ask that Yuuri would refuse to answer. “Of course,” he replies, gestures down the stairs. “We can talk in my study.”

They descend together and Victor wonders why he feels nervous, like he’s about to receive a lecture.

“Now,” Doctor Hall says as soon as the door closes behind them, “let me know if this gets uncomfortable for you at any time. His Lordship doesn’t seem to have anything physically wrong, as he’s denied having any pain and when I checked there was nothing abnormal.”

She pauses, watching Victor for a reaction. He has to remind himself that any reason she has for touching his Yuuri is professional and for his own health. After a moment, satisfied by his lack of outrage, she continues.

“However, since you both have been married for over a year, there is cause for concern, so I’m recommending that he—“

“We didn’t—,” Victor interrupts, thoughtlessly.

The doctor pauses. “I’m sorry?”

Victor can feel his cheeks heating for multiple reasons. “We… did not lay together until ten months ago.”

There’s a loud silence, where Victor knows the Doctor is judging their marriage, wondering what kind of alpha and husband he is for not sleeping with his omega for so long. Wondering what kind of Earl would shirk their duty. But before he can even gather the courage to attempt to explain himself Doctor Hall speaks.

“And you’ve only been trying for a child for half of that time?”

“Yes,” Victor knows his tone is short, his pride smashed to ruins. For an instant he’s not only angry at the doctor and himself, but at Yuuri too, for putting him in such a ridiculous position. It slips away as the doctor speaks again.

“Forgive me, Lord Nikiforov, my cold questions do not mean… that is, I think in the case of you and Countess Nikiforov it is not uncommon to wait. Though it brings up another question, and I never wish to intrude, but I might ask about your heats and ruts, if you’ve shared any.”

“Just my last rut,” he answers, not as tense as he was previously.

“That might be the problem then,” Doctor Hall says, “Have some patience until his next heat, my lord. Do not hope too hard though, sometimes these things even wait until both partners are synchronized.”

Victor takes note of her words, letting relief wash over him. He summons a servant to walk her out, but she pauses in the doorway, a small, reassuring smile on her face.

“And don’t worry too hard in general, Lord Nikiforov. Anxiousness is the biggest threat to growing families.”

....................

From his spot atop the side of the highest hill on the Nikiforov estate Yuuri gazes out over the grounds, watching clouds climb over trees and float across the sky. Every once in a while he can see game at the edge of the forest, deer poking heads out of the treeline, hares and foxes rustling the brush, or birds erupting out of the treetops like smoke from a chimney.

He could hear them all, the sounds of birds and insects, and other animals; the rustling of leaves and the faintest rushing from the nearby river. 

It was, by far, very different from where he grew up, at his parents Inn by the sea, but it was still beautiful and peaceful. It was relaxing enough to allow his thoughts to slow down.

_ “Unfortunately, Lord Nikiforov, as far as I can tell, you’re not expecting.” _

Yuuri had closed off after that, had scarcely listened and spoke even less, allowing Minami to redress him and finally bidding the doctor good-bye. 

He wished he could say he wasn’t disappointed by the news, but…

_ I knew _ , Yuuri thinks, petting over the fabric of his dress. _ But why am I so sad? _

Maybe it was for Victor’s sake. He knew his husband had been hopeful, had reassured him with such confidence. Yuuri couldn’t quite get rid of the enormous guilt he felt at letting down his alpha once again, for he knew that he had been in wait nearby, and the doctor would go straight to him. 

And Yuuri knew Victor would find him as soon as possible. Which is why Yuuri left the house and had taken to wandering the grounds until he settled on this spot on the hillside.

_ Let my Lord Husband call another search for me _ , Yuuri thought, knowing his sudden burst of bitterness was uncalled for. _ Let him make a spectacle of me and show everyone how I’ve failed in every way of being an omega. _

Tears come before Yuuri can stop them, slipping down his cheeks until he catches them with a gloved hand. Despite his best attempts, he seems unable to stop crying, and settles for burying his face in the knees.

It’s a long while before he lifts his face. Larger clouds have come and blocked out the sun, making the wind seem biting rather than refreshing, and Yuuri feels exhausted, wondering how he’ll manage the walk back to the house.

Just the thought of going back to the house, of facing Victor fills him with trepidation. It grows into dread as he slowly treks back across the grounds, slipping in a servants entrance to minimize being seen. He holds his finger to his lips when Molly spots him in the hall, freezing while holding a tea-tray outside Lord Nikiforov’s study.

It’s a futile wish, but Yuuri presses a finger to his lips and waits for her to nod before he makes up the staircase.

He’s not in his room for ten minutes when there’s a knock on the door. Through bond and smell he knows who’s on the other side before he even speaks.

“May I come in?” Victor pushes open the door before Yuuri can respond and Yuuri takes a step back, trying to reign in his catastrophic storm of emotions before Victor can feel them. Victor pauses once he spots Yuuri, closes the door behind him slowly. “Don’t be angry with Molly, they were all under orders to tell me as soon as they saw you.”

“I’m not,” Yuuri says truthfully, though he knows his tone might imply otherwise. He feels the need to clarify. “I figured she might tell you. She can hardly keep a secret.”

Victor frowns, “Yuuri…” he takes a step forward but stops when Yuuri takes another back, keeping the distance between them.

“Are you here to comfort me?”

“Yes,” Victor says after a moment, “I thought you might be upset, which you quite obviously are.”

Yuuri can’t help but scoff. He can feel tears welling up in him again, though he’s unable to distinguish them between anger or sadness, he latches onto the easiest one to deal with. “I’m not upset,” he spats. “Afterall, how can I be, when there’s _ nothing _to be upset over.”

“Yuuri,” Victor says again, reaching out. “My darling, I know—”

“No, you don’t. You don’t know. You can’t possibly know.”

There’s silence, where the only sound is the breathing in the room as they stare at one another. Across the bond Yuuri can feel Victor’s heartache, and he knows, though he hates it at the moment, he knows his own is being echoed back across. A circle of sadness that draws over them the longer they stare.

Yuuri quickly wipes at his eyes again and takes a breath. 

“Doctor Hall recommended a specialist in London,” Yuuri finally says, and it seems to catch Victor off guard, if his surprised expression is anything to go by. “I’ll be traveling with Yurio there and staying with Phichit.”

Victor seems to recover by the time he finishes talking. “My dear, I’m sure that’s not necessary. Why, after I— Well, Doctor Hall said sometimes things just take time, and we should—”

“She also said the specialist would know if there was something wrong with me. I intend to find out sooner rather than later and save you worrying over whether you’ve married an auspicious omega or not.”

“You think I care whether you’re… _ auspicious _?” Victor asks, stepping forward, his scent growing angry, “Do you honestly believe that? When I spent months living with you while you hated me? When I could have so easily handed you back to your family instead? Do you hear the nonsense you’re claiming?”

Yuuri knows Victor is right, he knows Victor cares not whether they have children, knows that they’ve grown to love one another despite their difficult beginning, and yet…

“I—...” Yuuri starts and stops, swallows down another surge of anger and sadness and inwardly curses. He’s never been so emotional about it like this, nor Victor. “I’m going to London. Maybe the time apart will remind you to keep your temper.”

“_ My _ temper?” Victor asks, incredulous. He stares at Yuuri for a long moment before he puts a wall up in their bond; something that has rarely happened since they bonded. It shocks Yuuri as much as his husbands following words, “Maybe some time apart will do us some good.” 

His impassive expression reminds Yuuri so suddenly of how Victor looked at him during the beginning of their marriage that he flinches, his gaze dropping down to the floor. 

“Victor…” Yuuri says softly as the alpha stalks towards the door, but, in a true mirror to the other day, Victor either doesn’t hear him or ignores him, the door clicking shut behind him like a finality.

Yuuri sits back on the bed, overwhelmed to the point of numbness, and he belated puts up a block as well.

....................

“It all seems very sudden.”

“Aye,” agrees Molly, “Especially when they’ve just had a falling out.”

“Another one?” Hikaru replies and Minami fights the urge to roll his eyes. “My, if they aren’t in bed together then they’re fighting.”

“Don’t be mean, Hikaru,” Minami says, placing the last of his mending supplies in his box. He only has his own packing to do before they leave for London, now that the button on his Masters coat has been resewn and can be packed. “Being married isn’t all rainbows and sunshine, especially when you’ve had to take over being Countess of a great house.”

Hikaru sniffs. “Well I wouldn’t know, would I?”

Minami shuts the box with a snap. “No, I suppose not.”

“It’s better than before,” Molly chimes, “When they hardly spoke.”

Minami remembers. It hadn’t been easy, helping his new master ease into his role. He’d had to play the discrete messenger oftentimes trying getting an answer from the Countess in a way where he wouldn’t know the Earl had originally asked. Minami still wonders if Lord Yuuri knew how much thought Lord Nikiforov had put into his comfort after he first arrived. 

“Before the Countess learned his place, you mean.” Hikaru’s unnecessary jab makes Minami’s fists clench. He wishes the alpha would just shut up and keep his vile thoughts to himself, rather than inflict them upon Molly and the other maids and footmen. His glare is met with a leer as Hikaru continues, “Under his alpha.”

Molly gasps and Minami stands as he snaps. “Shut up. You claim to act as if you know all about it, but the only thoughts in your head are medieval notions about alphas and omegas.”

“All right, calm down,” Hikaru stands, “I don’t know why you’re getting all upset about it. It’s not as if I’m talking about you.”

“No, you’re just insulting and demeaning our Master.” 

Minami is out the door before Hikaru can reply, fists clenching in the apron of his uniform and cheeks heated in anger. He wonders what would have to happen for Hikaru to be given his notice, if the other staff would hate him very much for telling Kanako about his behaviour. 

It’s not until he gets halfway to his room that he realises he forgot his mending box in the servants hall. He huffs an irritated sigh and storms back the way he came, avoiding curious glances from other staff. Finding the hall empty is a relief, but when he looks over at the spot he knows he left his box he freezes; The box is nowhere to be found.

....................

_ September 7th, 1813_

“Victor isn’t coming with us, is he?” Yuri asks, eyeing the servants as they load Yuuri’s bags onto the carriage. 

“No,” Yuuri says, his voice carrying a firm finality and Yuri knows at once that they’ve been fighting again.

Yuri much prefers his new cousin to his older, annoying one, so he tucks his hands behind his back and nods. “Good. Where will you be staying in London?”

“Phichit has asked me to stay with him and it will be good to see him again. You’re staying with Mr Altin, correct?”

At the mention of the other alpha Yuri averts his eyes. “Yes,” he replies, aiming for nonchalonce. 

“You both should come to dinner some night. I’m sure Phichit won’t mind. In fact, he’ll probably invite half of London to join.”

Yuri rolls his eyes at the joke. What he truly wants is to spend the entire time in private with Otabek, but he knows that if they’re to avoid suspicion that attending a party held by Phichit would be the easiest way. 

“As long as that insufferable Jean-Jaques Leroy isn’t there.”

Yuuri hums, a small smile gracing his lips. It’s no secret how much Yuri hates Mr Leroy just as it’s a widely known fact that if you’re able to spend more than ten minutes in his presence that you’re considered to have the patience of a saint. “I hear that new wife of his is clever.”

Scoffing, Yuri replies, “She can’t be too clever if she let herself get trapped into marrying him.”

A small frown plays over Yuuri’s lips at his gaze catches Yuri’s, but before he can respond a servant approaches with a small bow. 

“The carriage is all set, my lord.”

They start forward, Yuri pausing before he offers his hand to help Yuuri in. “You don’t wish to say goodbye to Victor?”

His cousin’s face hardens. “No,” he says, and climbs inside. Yuri glances back before he follows, eye catching on one of the first floor windows where the curtains are pulled aside. The shape of Victor watching then depart makes him frown. His cousin’s marriage has always been disgustingly loving, and here Yuuri is, riding away with Yuri to London while Victor is there, watching like a spectre from above. Yuri startles when Yuuri speaks again. “Did you forget something? We shouldn’t wait too long to leave.”

Shaking his head, Yuri climbs in, sitting across from Yuuri. He waits a moment for them to settle before signalling to the driver to set off. As they roll down the drive he watches as Petersburg House gets smaller and smaller and tries to shake off the sense of foreboding he feels creep over him.

....................

_ September 9th, 1813 _

Phichit welcomes Yuuri with excitement and warmth, immediately divesting him of his hat and coat and gloves and ushering him into the dining room for breakfast. Yuuri, still tired from the journey, doesn’t find himself much in the mood for conversation, but Phichit speaks enough for both of them and doesn’t seem offended by Yuuri’s quietness.

“I’ll let you rest today, but tomorrow I’m taking you to Hyde Park because the geese are so funny this time of year, and then there’s a new play that I think you’d especially like, and, tell me again when your appointment is? We’ll have to plan around that, of course,” Phichit chatters on while Yuuri spreads jam over his toast. “And Chris is in town, though it’s not by my own doing before you say anything clever.”

Mouth full of toast, Yuuri makes an aborted shrugging motion, accompanied by an indignant noise. 

Phichit continues on. “And Mr Altin has returned too, much to the joy of little Yuri, if his quick departure from here gives any clue. Of course if everyone is in town we might as well have dinner and some dancing, though,” he pauses, peeking over the rim of his teacup to send Yuuri a look, “not _ everyone _is here.”

Leveling a look back at him, Yuuri clears his throat. “No, Victor had business that kept him at Petersburg.” He takes a sip of his own tea, then continues, “And he isn’t terribly interested with my business in town.”

Phichit sputters. “Not terribly interested?” 

Yuuri avoids responding by stuffing more toast in his mouth and shrugging.

“He does know _ why _you’re here?” Phichit leans forward, voice lowering slightly.

Primly, Yuuri responds, “To see a specialist, yes.”

“And he doesn’t take an interest in that? In the possibility of an heir?”

“I rarely try to figure out what goes on in that head of his, Phichit,” Yuuri spears a piece of bacon, lifting it then pausing. “He didn’t even want me to go.”

“Oh, Yuuri, did you have another disagreement?”

Yuuri scoffs at the understatement, but it comes out instead as a sort of choked sob. “He doesn’t— It hurts, each time, to have that small hope snatched away so savagely.”

There’s a clatter of cutlery as Phichit rushes closer, takes Yuuri’s hands in his own, offers up a handkerchief. “Shush now, Yuuri, it’ll all be all right, you’ll see.”

“He didn’t even say goodbye before I left,” Yuuri says, wiping his eyes. “And I miss him already.”

There’s a pause, then, “Oh, Yuuri,” Phichit says, all sympathy. Yuuri leans against Phichit’s shoulder, taking a breath. Different from all those months ago when Phichit’s familiar scent had calmed him, now it just makes him crave Victor’s scent more. “Come now, wipe your eyes and nose. I might have teased about Chris coming, but he’ll be here before noon and you wouldn’t want him to be worrying if Victor’s been bullying you.”

Yuuri lets out a weak laugh, wiping his eyes again and taking breaths to compose himself. “No, I suppose not.”

“Although it might be entertaining,” Phichit mused, smoothly changing the subject, “There’s a new type of sport that’s becoming quite popular in some circles.”

“Oh?” Yuuri says, picking up his bacon again.

Phichit leans forward, a sly smile on his face that catches Yuuri’s interest. It was the same smile Phichit always had when scheming; and Yuuri remembers it being followed by spying on people sea bathing naked, or sneaking away from chaperons and catching glances at scandalous acts down alleyways.

“Alpha wrestling,” Phichit whispers, and hurrys on to explain, “Two alphas grapple, fighting for dominance while practically nude. Apparently in some circumstances the winner will even mount the loser.”

Yuuri’s cheeks heat. “Phichit, that’s…”

“I know,” Phichit says.

“Is that even… I mean, how—?”

“Believe me, Yuuri, it’s not impossible.”

It hits him, Victor’s fingers intruding _ there _ and later, when he explained how he’d experimented with other alphas. He glances up, sending a shrewd look towards Phichit. “I am the married one in this house. I think it’s most important to ask how _ you _know.”

Yuuri isn’t quite sure what he expects Phichit’s reaction to be, considering how open his friend is, but the alpha doesn’t respond immediately, taking a quick drink of his tea, the reddened apples of his cheeks peeking out from around the edges of the teacup. 

“Phichit, are you blushing?” Yuuri says in wonderment, a smile growing on his face. “Phichit tell me how you know.”

Phichit clears his throat, fiddling with his napkin before putting it atop his plate. “There are some things I must do, please do feel free to continue breakfast without—”

“Phichit, tell me now,” Yuuri insists, staring up at his friend in amazement. He’d never seen Phichit become so flustered before. 

“Yuuri, that’s— I don’t ask about your… well, you know.”

Yuuri laughs, for the first time in weeks he realizes. “I must know, I won’t stop until you tell me. Is it someone I know? Was it—”

Phichit adopts a pained expression, “Have mercy, Yuuri, I beg you.”

“It _ is _ someone I know,” Yuuri gasps. “Who?”

The tinkling sound of a bell interrupts the alpha before he can respond. He glances behind him at the clock then turns back to Yuuri. “That should be Chris, now. I’ll bring him into the living room,” he says as he makes for the entrance hall, “You can join us whenever you like.”

_ Chris _ , Yuuri thinks while taking a final sip of his tea, _ if anyone else knows who Phichit’s been fooling around with, it would be him. _

....................

“I should go away more often if I’ll come back to a welcome like that,” Otabek jokes, his voice no louder than a murmur over Yuri’s head. 

Under his ear, Otabek’s heart beats fast and strong, slowing down as they come down from their activities. Their stomachs sticking and unsticking as they breath.

“Don’t talk about leaving so soon after you’ve returned,” Yuri says petulantly. He shifts, resting his chin on Otabeks pec and glaring up at him. “I want to enjoy you while you’re here.”

Otabek’s expression doesn’t change but for an uptick at the corner of his mouth. 

“If I had my way, I’d enjoy you forever.”

Cheeks heating, Yuri glances away. The thought makes his heart stutter and fills him with fear at the same time. Silence hangs over them when Yuri doesn’t respond, and even if neither of them of naturally talkative, Yuri can feel it’s awkwardness. He shifts when he thinks of what he wants to say, drawing away to sit up, and Otabek doesn’t stop him.

Dangling his legs over the side of the bed and staring at the far wall, Yuri finally speaks.

“We can’t do this forever though. I’m still next in line for Earl of Nikiforov.”

A rustle of sheets behind him, the sound of Otabek sitting up. A hand runs over his back, comforting. 

“It would be extraordinary bad luck that doesn’t allow the Earl and Countess to have children.”

For some reason, Yuri doesn’t think before he speaks, “We wouldn’t be able to,” he blushes, then clarifies, “Have children, that is.” 

There’s another silence, filled only by their quiet breathing. Then, “Do you want children, Yura?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Yuri snaps. Otabek’s hand on his back stills. “Who knows what either of us will wish for in the future.”

Yuri blinks and suddenly Otabek is before him, his hands cradling Yuri’s cheeks and intense grey eyes boring into his own green ones. 

“No, we won’t know, but I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you to be with me. I want to be your mate, and everything that means.”

Those words coming from his quiet Otabek startle him. “We can’t be married,” Yuri says, dumbly.

“No, and we can’t have children, which is sad indeed. But all the rest, to love and cherish and have and hold and worship, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health… We’ll have that, together. With strength and courage, we can be together.”

Yuri sucks in a breath, surprised when it’s shaky and his exhale comes out quivering. No longer able to take Otabek’s state, he looks away. It registers in his mind all the questions he had about how their dynamic when they had started, and how Otabek explained that with them, there was no submission or dominance, it was just them, being together as they always were, but more.

“I…” he trails off. He wants to agree, but flashes of Petersburg come to mind, with its bright stones and elegant towers and large windows, the sound of his cousins arguing, and that look on Victor’s face the first time the Doctor had visited. He thinks of Cousin Yuuri’s appointment, and how nervous the omega seemed at the prospect. “Give me a week, and I promise I’ll have an answer for you then.” 

....................

Yuuri wakes covered in sweat and rutting into the mattress. He buries his face into the pillow and groans, bringing his hands up to fist the pillow before completely throwing out all of his self-control and slipping his hand down his body to palm at his cocklet.

Flashes of his dream swim inside his closed eyelids; the vision of his alpha on top of him, his legs pulled up and pinned against the alpha’s chest by strong arms, his hips snapping and slamming into Yuuri in a brutal pace and with pinpoint accuracy.

Yuuri whispers into his pillow at the memory of it. It had felt so real, his dream, he hadn’t had dreams so vivid since the time between his heat and when they had consummated their marriage four months late. 

Grabbing the fabric of his sleepwear, he tugs it up enough where he can spread his legs and lift his hips, making it easier to reach his cocket. Slick drips down from his cunt as he strokes himself, using his dream as fuel for the fire in his groin and stomach. 

“Victor,” he whispers as he remembers the dream, the phantom sensation of hips slamming into the backs of his thighs, heavy balls slapping against his skin. He feels his cunt clench and more slick dribbles over his cocklet and fingers and he desperately craves his mates thick cock spreading him wide and filling him deep, the too-real feeling of it from the dream slipping through the cracks of his mind. He lets out a sob as he grinds his hips, fucking into his fist, and quickly brings his other hand down to join, three fingers slipping into his sopping hole with ease.

The position gets exhausting fast, and he flips over, turning his head as far as he can go so he can muffle any noise into his pillow as he strips his hand over his cocklet and pumps his fingers inside himself.

“Please, please, please,” he begs dream Victor, his words whispered but bold, hardly anything he would say outside of a heat; dirt talk was more Victor’s area of expertise. “Spread me, fuck me, fuck my hole alpha, please make me come on your cock.”

In his dream—or fantasy, yuuri wasn’t quite sure as thing point—his husband leans down, letting Yuuri’s legs fall and wrap around his hips, he brushes his lips over Yuuri’s cheek before his breath ghosts over Yuuri’s ear, sending gooseflesh over his body. _ “Oh,” _ Victor’s voice echoes in his mind, _ “I’ll make love to you, my Yuuri.” _

His orgasm comes suddenly, cresting over him like a wave and breaking over his body as his hips pump helplessly and he shivers and moans, closed-mouthed. He tosses his head back as he rides it out, taking deep breaths as he comes down, feeling warm and sated, but lonely. 

The loneliness is especially apparent as he cleans himself up and crawls back into bed, curling up in his temporary nest that smells all of him and none of Victor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao this is _so_ unbeta'd

_ September 8th, 1813 _

Yuuri shifts, turning a page of his book, but at Chris’s tutting he moves back to his original position. 

“Lord Nikiforov you’re as restless as a child, do you never sit for your husband?”

Phichit laughs. Yuuri glances up from his book, glaring at Chris only to be met with a grin. His hand never stills as he sketches.

“Don’t tease poor Yuuri too much, Chris. You know he’s only excited about tomorrow.”

The thought of seeing the specialist fills him with dread. He doesn’t want to face Chris’s inquiries about it, so he shifts the topic, his eyes dropping back to his book as he tries to remain casual.

“Mr Giacometti, I was wondering if you would answer something for me.”

“You rarely ask anything of me, my lord, so I’ll endeavor to answer to the best of my ability.”

Glancing up, Yuuri notes Phichit’s intrigued expression. He returns his gaze to his book as he slowly says, “You’re one of Phichit’s dearest friends, so I was wondering if you know of anyone our dear Phichit has an attachment to. He won’t tell me who, though I know there’s someone.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Phichit shifts and Yuuri is surprised not to hear Chris tut at him. Yuuri looks up, immediately noting the light blush on Chris’s face and the way his eyes are glued to the sketchbook. 

“I believe that the person in question,” Chris says, not looking up from his drawing, “has been wanting to come forward to their friends for a while.” Yuuri watches as Chris’s hand keeps moving, subtly marking out small details of something Yuuri can’t see. It’s remarkable he can do it without keeping his eyes on his subject, and Yuuri muses that he must have spent a good deal looking at it to know it so well. After another brief silence, Chris looks up. “Believe me, Yuuri, you’ll know soon enough.”

....................

“Ah,” Minami hears a voice chime from the doorway and looks up, stiffening when he spots Hikaru, “you must have found your button box then.”

“No, actually,” Minami replies, “I’ve borrowed this from the maid next door.”

“Aren’t you going to try to find it?”

Minami snaps his head up, but is surprised to see how much closer Hikaru has come. He glares. “Are you going to tell me where you put it?”

Hikaru’s face shifts to fake indignation, and Minami fights a sneer. “Now, little Minami,” Hikaru says, leaning down and placing a hand on the table next to the omega, “tell me what use would a footman have of a button box?”

Hackles rising, Minami’s grip on his needle tightens. “You’re a spiteful and mean alpha, Hikaru. You can’t be content in just doing your job well, you have to cause mischief and trouble for others around you. What use do you have of a button box, besides to make my job beyond difficult?” Minami isn’t even aware of standing, forcing Hikaru backwards. “You’re a scoundrel, vulgar, and a bully. Tell me, what does the household need of someone like you?”

The unguarded and shocked expression in Hikaru’s face startles Minami more than his own words, when they catch up with him. For a second, he feels guilty, but tries not to let it show. 

_ Think of your button box _ , he tells himself, and continues glaring.

He watches as Hikaru takes a step back, his returning gaze indecipherable. “I see,” Hikaru finally says, before turning and leaving the servants hall. 

With shaking hands, Minami places his work back in the borrowed button box.

....................

Dinner that night is quiet. Even guests such as Mr. De La Iglesia and Guang Hong, not privy to Yuuri’s reason for being in town, note the tension and keep conversation short. 

That is, until someone mentions the ball Jean-Jaques Leroy is holding.

“I will not go,” Yurio declares loudly, stabbing his fork into his meat with a viciousness.

Yuuri sighs, “You may have to, if we’ve been invited. Lord Leroy, though a little lord he is, will not take the insult lightly if you don’t make an appearance.”

Turning to Otabek, Yurio doesn’t respond. It’s childish but Yuuri can’t find the energy to scold him, and knows it will be futile anyway. 

“Yuuri,” Phichit says while the next course is being served, “I have some news which I hope you’ll take as good.”

Yuuri looks up from taking a portion of chicken and latches onto the change of topic. “Oh? Pray, don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Lord Nikiforov has decided to join us.”

His eyes snap from Phichit to Yurio. “Did you have anything to do with this?”

Scoffing, Yurio takes a drink, murmuring a “as if I want the old man hanging around,” around the rim.

“It was my idea, Yuuri,” Phichit says, leaning forward in earnestness. “I saw how upset you were and implored him to come.” 

Yes, Yuuri had been upset by their fight and Victor’s refusal to apologize or even give Yuuri to opportunity to apologize. The idea of seeing Victor again infuriates and flusters him. He takes a large gulp of wine, grimacing as he puts down the glass. 

“Your judgement, like your wine, is remarkably horrid.”

“That seems uncalled for,” Leo chimes in. Beside him, Guang Hong sniffs and sips his own wine, then leans over and whispers something to Leo. 

“Let’s all be sensible,” Chris interjects. He turns towards the Butler, “Wexham, the wine is marvelous. I think the Countess is stressed and tired, is all.”

“I believe you’re right,” Yuuri says, standing. Everyone else scrambles to stand as well. “Please excuse me, I think I’ll retire early.”

....................

_ September 9th, 1813 _

Yuuri wakes and dresses the next morning rehearsing his apology. He frets, twisting his hands together even as Minami assures and reminds him that “both Mr. Chulanont and Mr. Giacometti have easy and forgiving natures”. He makes his footsteps light as he descends down the stairs and heads for the breakfast room. 

He pauses outside the doorway, taking a breath and preparing to round the corner when he hears Christophe say his name in a sentence.

“Well you can’t hold off telling Yuuri forever. I would have told him yesterday had you not vowed me to secrecy.”

“Don’t mistake me,” Phichit replies, and Yuuri listens with bated breath as he continues on. “Yuuri is my closest friend and I want to tell him, but I want to be able to answer his questions, and I can’t do that until we get everything sorted.”

“Have you considered that they might help us?”

There’s the sound of a teacup being placed back onto his saucer. “I will not use my friends status and rank to further my own goals.” Phichit’s words are firm and Yuuri determines that even if Phichit doesn’t want his and Victor’s help, he will get it. 

“Phichit that’s not what I meant and you know it,” Chris says, and even Yuuri can sense the beginnings of a true argument. Steeling himself, he steps into view and enters the breakfast room.

“Good morning,” he says quietly.

The two alphas stand quickly. There’s a pause before Phichit gestures to an empty seat, “Good morning, Yuuri. Please join us for breakfast.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, he walks over to the chair, pausing with his hand on the back of it before sitting down. “I feel I must apologize last night,” he starts when the two alpha’s have sat down again, “I behaved very poorly and I beg your forgiveness for allowing my nervousness about today and my anger at the Earl to cloud my judgement and affect my manners.”

He peeks up from where he’d been staring at the tablecloth to see his friends exchanging glances. Chris popping an olive in his mouth as Phichit speaks. “You need not apologize, Yuuri, though if it makes you feel better, you are forgiven.”

“Indeed,” Chris says, “And as a matter of fact, we have our own apologies to make, though I’m hoping you and Lord Nikiforov won’t be too hard on us.”

“Oh?” Yuuri feigns innocence, reaching for his fork, eager for breakfast after leaving dinner early. 

“ _ I _ wanted to tell you and Victor from the beginning but Phichit begged me to hold off,” Chris begins and Phichit jumps in, the two of them speaking at the same time. “We’re engaged.”

There’s a loud silence as Yuuri’s head swivels back and forth. 

“What?  _ Both _ of you?” Yuuri asks, the conversation he had overheard making more and more sense, “To whom?” 

Neither alpha answers and Yuuri continues to look back and forth at them.  _ Both of them?  _ He thinks,  _ At the same time?  _ Silence stretches over the table as through the room as Yuuri observes Chris and Phichit dodges his eye. It isn’t until he sees that Phichit isn’t just avoiding his gaze, it’s that he’s looking at Christophe and ...“ _ Oh _ ! Both of you? You two? To each other?”

“Ah,” Phichit smiles, a touch more tightly than before, “now he’s got it.”

“We know it’s not standard here, but in Switzerland it’s not that outlandish,” Chris explains quickly, “we’ll be having the wedding there.”

“Oh!” Yuuri gasps again, then he’s leaving to grab Phichit’s hand, “I’m so happy for you! And you, Chris! Why…” he swallows as he remembers their conversation that he had overheard, “Why did you feel you could not tell me sooner?”

“I’m sorry I held off,” Phichit says, and to his credit, he sounds so apologetic that Yuuri forgets any thought of holding it against him, “There are just so many things we have to do differently as opposed to a traditional mating, and I wanted to be sure it would all go smoothly.”

“I quite understand,” Yuuri reassures, “Victor will be pleased for you, I know it.” 

Chris rests him chin in his palm as he replies. “Victor hinted at something a long time ago, though I’m not sure if Phichit and I had an understanding at that time.”

“How long have you two had an attachment?” Yuuri asks.

“A year,” Phichit answers, “and engaged for half a year.” 

For the first time in days, Yuuri’s heart feels light. He can’t be mad about Phichit keeping it a secret, not for the reasons he gave, and he prays that Victor will be happy. 

_ At the very least,  _ Yuuri thinks, _ I can be happy for them about this.  _

....................

Yuuri tries to focus on the sound of rain battering the window, muffled by the heavy curtain. He winces as Doctor Griffiths does something with his finger and he bites his lip to prevent the pained sound that claws at his throat. 

He wants Victor, he wants to go home, and he especially wishes he had never listened to Doctor Hall for surely this specialist can’t learn anything by poking around down there.

Pressure builds in his head and he knows tears threaten to come. He stares at the wall in an effort to will them away. 

Then Doctor Griffiths’ hand draws away and he stands. 

“Your Doctor Hall in Peterborough is an alpha, yes?” He asks in his thick, Welsh accent. 

“Yes,” Yuuri replies, immediately fixing his skirts and taking deep breaths to calm himself. “Please,” he says, before Doctor Griffiths can say anything else, “Is there something wrong with me?”

Doctor Griffiths shakes his head, his lips upticking as he cleans off his hand. “No, madam—”

“My lord, if you please,” Yuuri corrects instinctively.

“ _ My lord _ ,” the Doctor emphasises, “There doesn’t seem to be anything abnormal, in fact, it all seems to be perfectly normal for someone in your condition.”

The words register slowly in Yuuri’s mind. “My... condition?”

“I think you’ll be happy to go into confinement as soon as you wish, you’re still early on so I would recommend bed rest, and plenty of vegetables. You may feel sick in the mornings or night, but it’s perfectly natural and good. There’s also the matter of your...”

Yuuri almost tunes the Doctor out in his shock. He barely registers the Doctor is still speaking when he interrupts again.

“You’re sure?”

“Quite.”

“But not a week ago Doctor Hall stated there were no signs.”

At that, Doctor Griffiths clasps his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels as he speaks and his sharp, grey eyes boring into Yuuri’s. “Doctor Hall,.” he starts, “is a good doctor on all accounts, but she is an alpha, and even female alphas can be woefully ignorant of their anatomy. Unlike Doctor Hall, I am an expert obstetrician with first-hand experience in the form of two young girls. Trust me, Lord Nikiforov,” he finishes with a smile like a secret, “In eight months time you’ll have your own.”

The urge to cry threatens to return, in relief this time, rather than fear and pain. He never would have guessed that the stern looking Doctor that had examined him was a male omega. And he was promising…

“What a blessing,” Yuuri gasps, lost for words.

“Indeed, indeed,” Doctor Griffiths says, ushering a shocked Yuuri into the waiting area. “Now, you’re fine to get a carriage back but take care with the weather, Lord Nikiforov.”

Yuuri can’t even remember slipping on his cloak and hat, nor saying good-bye, nor leaving. The harsh rain slowing to a harsh drizzle as he stares at the glossy cobbled street in wonder.

....................

“You’re so effeminate for an alpha, if I wasn’t with you they might not have let you in,” Otabek whispers into his ear as he guides Yuri through the crowded room. 

“I’ll show you effeminate,” Yuri growls over his shoulder. In return, Otabek shoots him a smirk. 

Together they weave through the crowd. Yuri tries not to gawk at the groups of alphas dancing together, holding each other close and waltzing — Some clearly drunk off their feet, other’s turning and moving so smoothly that they might as well have learned it from Thomas Wilson himself.

They move past the dancers, past the bar and through a doorway where Yuri is overwhelmed by the sound of yelling and the smell of sweat. He cranes his neck, curiosity filling him as he and Otabek push their way closer to the center of the room.

He gasps when they finally reach the front.

Two alpha’s, one with black hair and one with light brown, and both in their smallclothes with sweat glistening off their skin, wrestling as their bare feet slid on the ground. Yuri immediately picks the one with dark hair, curls of it falling forward over his brow, and hollers when the light haired ones grip slips. 

The dark haired one quickly takes advantage, twisting his previously held arm and grabbing his opponents. The light haired one leans backwards, away from the hold and in the direction the dark-haired one was pushing. It makes him lose balance, scrambling to keep upright. 

“Who do you favor?” Otabek asks in his ear, and Yuri lets out the breath he had been holding.

“The one with the black hair,” Yuri says, breathless. His eyes never leaving the fight in front of them. The light haired one tries to throw the other on the floor, but the dark haired ones grip is firm, and he pulls him down with him.

He feels Otabek’s front press against his back, a hand comes to rest on his hip, and when he leans into his lover he feels his prick digging into his lower back.

“My money is on the other one,” Otabek says, as if he isn’t grinding his erection into the smaller man. “He’s fast.”

Yuri grins as the black haired man slides his limbs around the other, rolling them over and folding fast. A low, growling moan comes from the pinned, light haired man.

“Yes,” Yuri says, tilting his head back, “but you see, the other one is stronger.”

Otabek doesn’t reply, simply tightening his grip while Yuri redirects his gaze to the two wrestling alphas. One of them moans again, though he can’t tell who, and with a blush he realizes what the dark haired man’s hand is doing.

He averts his gaze, his eyes fluttering around the room as he realizes that while the front area was highly improper, this back room was even more so.

In the corner he spots a man on his knees in-between the legs of an alpha woman, a little further over he watches as a group of three messily exchange kisses. One of the many people close to Otabek and himself lets out a loud, low groan, and Yuri knows what it signals.

“Otabek,” he whispers. The two men who had been wrestling are getting up now, large grins on their faces until the light haired one pulls the dark one in suddenly, kissing him firmly on the lips while the room cheers.

“Alrigh’ you lads and lasses,” a burly alpha steps forward circling around to get a view of all the crowd, “which one of yous will be next? I need two alphas ready to figh’ and maybe, heh, a bit more if your lucky with your partner. Maybe you?” The alpha points randomly and the crowd member laughs and backs away, holding his hands up. The burly alpha laughs and circles around again, coming to a stop right in front of Yuri and pointing. “Or… Maybe you?”

Yuri can feel the shock on his face, “Beka,” he says, trying, unsuccessfully, to back away as the alpha’s large arm reaches forward, grabbing him and hauling him into the circle. “Otabek,” he repeats, panic reaching into his voice as he looks over his shoulder at his lover. 

....................

Yuuri wasn’t sure whether he’d consider himself lucky or not. He stood in a small stone alcove, able to avoid most of the rain which fell down from the sky in heavy curtains, but he was absolutely and irrefutably lost. He had no idea how far he had walked nor for how long nor in which direction. He’d been in a daze, idly wondering how his condition was possible, and how in the world he was going to tell his lord husband, who was no doubt already at Phichit’s townhome. 

A gust of wind interrupts his thoughts as it blows freezing rain into his alcove, drenching him even further. He gasps, trying to tuck himself in further until the wind stops and offers him relief from the rain.

He wipes his face, tucking wet strands of hair back under his hat, and lets out a sob. He tugs hopelessly on the bond, praying that Victor has let down his block and that he might be close enough to feel it. He waits, shivering, to feel anything in return.

He waits for a long time, and keeps waiting. Eventually he ceases waiting to feel anything through the bond and simply watches the downpour, waiting for it to stop. 

He doesn’t hear the nearing footsteps over the sound of rain, so he jumps and lets out a startled noise when a figure passes his alcove. The stranger stops, backtracking and looking at him.

Yuuri feels trepidation, fear of a stranger and hopeful that they may provide directions of some sort, but it quickly changes to relief when he recognizes the footman they had brought with them to London.

“My Lord,” Hikaru says, stepping out of the rain and into the alcove. “We’ve been searching for you. I’m relieved to find you unharmed.”

“A habit of mine, I’m afraid,” he says, his voice rising to be heard above the downpour, “making search parties look for me.” 

“It’s quite alright, my lord,” Hikaru says in reply, thought Yuuri knows not how truthful it is. “Life as a servant would be boring without them.”

Yuuri finds himself at a bit of a loss for words. Minami tells him much of what happens downstairs, including the trouble Hikaru causes. He wonders if boredom is the benefactor in the footman’s mischief. “Have you been looking long?” He asks after a moment.

“Not very long, my lord,” Hikaru says, “We’re not that far from Mr Chulanont’s home. Four or five blocks.”

Yuuri blinks in surprise. “And has his Lordship arrived yet?” Yuuri asks. If he has then he most surely still has a block up. 

“He has, but he also joined the search, my lord, and left in the opposite direction from myself.” Hope flickers in Yuuri’s chest, that, perhaps his husband still isn’t angry with him.  _ Indeed _ , Yuuri thinks,  _ he must not be, if he is looking for me.  _ His thoughts are interrupted when Hikaru speaks again. “We might wait here a few minutes, my lord, in case the rain is to lighten.”

“Of course,” Yuuri allows. He feels more comfortable, now, with someone he knows, and the daunting feeling of the heavy rain lessens. “Minami tells me much of what happens downstairs,” he says after a long moment.

“Does he indeed, my lord.”

“Yes. He told me that right before he left his button box was misplaced and he couldn’t find it. I’m sure when we return to Peterburg you’ll help aid that search.”

“Of course, my lord.” Yuuri eyes the footman, whose gaze is fixed firmly to the weather outside the alcove. He speaks again, suddenly. “Minami is a bright spirit.”

It’s not something Yuuri ever imagined to hear come from their servant. “Are you fond of bright spirits, Hikaru?”

“Not usually, my lord, but Minami is the exception.”

“Hikaru,” Yuuri says, drawing the footman’s attention to himself, “Take note that Minami is passionate and loyal. He’s not docile and weak. He left his home in the south with my family to continue serving me, which takes a considerable amount of courage. I will not allow my maid to be stolen away by anyone who sees him less than what he is.” 

Hikaru’s cheeks redden, his eyes averting. “I understand, my lord.”

Silence settles over them, as Yuuri turns back to watching the rain. There’s another moment where the wind picks up, buffeting rain into their alcove, and Hikaru shields him from most of it. 

The heavy downpour doesn’t last much longer after that, slowing to a drizzle as a lighter patch of clouds move overhead. They take the chance to make down the road, heading back towards Phichit’s townhouse. It comes as a relief when they turn down the lane and Yuuri can see the elegant stretch of houses in which Phitchit’s is.

There’s a hustle as they enter the townhouse, Hikaru’s voice calling through the entryway “I’ve found him! Lord Nikiforov! Mr Chulanont!”

Phichit appears from the living room, and rushes to him, fussing as soon as he comes near. “Yuuri! You’re completely soaked! Come in here to the drawing room and warm yourself.” The sound of sitting by the fire calls him, his teeth chattering as he strips off his soaked cloak and hat. He lets Phichit lead him into the living room, where a servant is stoking the fire. “Go find Lord Nikiforov’s maid, have him bring dry clothes here immediately.”

Phichit leaves his side to pull a chair close to the fire and Hikaru helps him into it.

“Thank you, Hikaru,” Yuuri says, “Please take care to not get sick from this whole ordeal.”

The footman bows low, and turns to leave the living room, nearly smacking into Minami as he comes rushing through the open doorway. Yuuri watches idly as Minami barrels through, shoulder knocking Hikaru out of the way, and wonders if he should also have a word with the omega.

“I’ll stand guard outside so you may change,” Phichit says and Minami’s quick hands begin to undo buttons and laces. He leaves, closing the door behind him. 

“Yuuri, what were you thinking, walking around in the rain like that?” Minami scolds him. Yuuri allows it, letting the other omega slip off his shoes, and untie and strip off his stockings. They all get placed on the floor near the fire. “It will be a miracle if you don’t get ill.”

“I seem to be full of miracle,” Yuuri says idly.

Minami pauses, then quickly resumes his ministrations. “My lord?” Yuuri can’t even bring himself to say anything, tears quickly building and spilling over his cheeks. He covers his mouth, closing his eyes and more tears slip from the corners. “Here, Yuuri, dry your eyes. Whatever the doctor told you cannot be so bad.”

Yuuri takes the offered handkerchief, dabbing under his eyes and shaking his head. 

“These are not sad tears, Minami,” he says with a small laugh. He can’t tell if his hand is shaking from the lingering chill or from nerves, but he places it over his stomach, where he knows his and Victor’s child resides. 

Minami’s eyes widen, staring at his stomach. “Oh, Yuuri, what amazing news! We must get you out of this dress before you do catch a cold, for we cannot risk your health.”

They make quick work of shedding his dress. His coat and dress had taken most of the rain, so Minami decides not to waste more time in making him change his underclothes. He’s just throwing a heavy blanket over Yuuri’s shoulders and tucking the edges around him and into the chair when Yuuri feels the turbulent emotions of his mate, overflowing with worry.

It nearly brings on more tears, and he clutches the blanket tighter in anticipation when he hears the front door to Phichit’s home open, and voices echoing through the hall on the other side of the door. Relief flows through the bond, presumably as Phichit tells Victor that Yuuri is safe, and Yuuri tries to quell is excitement and nerves. 

Then, a knock on the door, and Victor’s voice follows. “Yuuri? May I enter?” 

“Yes,” Yuuri calls, voice shaking. He looks at Minami as Victor opens the door, about to ask to be left alone for a moment, but his maid beats him to it, wet clothes bundled in his arms and a soft smile on his face. 

“I’ll get these dried, my lord, and ask them to bring tea.” He leaves with a short curtsey to him and Victor, closing the door behind him.

There’s a long silence where Yuuri stares at the floor by Victor’s boots, unable to look at him quite yet. He feels his chest heave under all his layers and his palms grow tacky as he works up the courage. He blinks as those boots step closer, then closer, until they’re in front of him, and then Victor kneels, putting himself directly in Yuuri’s line of vision.

_ I missed you, _ Yuuri wants to say as those intense blue eyes find his, searching his face with concern, and yet when he looks at the face of his beloved mate he can only think, _ I carry your child _ . It makes a shiver run through his body as he gasps, and tears threaten to spring up again. 

“Yuuri?” Victor asks, alarm in his voice. Hands come up to grasp his arms over the blanket, running over them soothingly. He brings his wrist up, ready to scent his mate to calm him, but Yuuri’s hand flies from under the blanket, grabbing Victor’s wrist.

“Victor, I have to tell you—”

“I care not for what the doctor said, Yuuri,” Victor’s other hand comes up to cradle Yuuri’s face, his thumb sweeping over his cheek. “As long as you are safe. Oh, what a fool I was for letting you go to London without me.”

Yuuri lets out a breath of a laugh and tries again. “Victor,” he says, but Victor cuts him off again.

“Please trust me and Doctor Hall that those things take time, and my love, we will have plenty of time together.”

Yuuri’s expression fights between frowning and smiling, an odd sensation. “That’s— That’s just the thing, Victor, Doctor Hall was wrong.”

That seems to make Victor pause. “Wrong? In what way?”

“According to Doctor Griffiths,” Yuuri says slowly, trying to find the words, “I bear your child.”

The silence following his announcement is deafening. There is a long minute where Victor stares at Yuuri, mouth open and brows furrowed, before flicking down to his stomach and back up. 

“You’re—?” He chokes out, “My love, are you sure you can trust what this Doctor says? I don’t want your heart to be broken again.”

“He was quite sure. He’s an omega himself and was confident in his diagnosis,” Yuuri says earnestly, leaning forward. “He said I might start having symptoms soon, as it’s still early on.”

Yuuri watches as Victor’s gaze lowers, staring with wonder. Slowly, he pulls the blanket covering Yuuri away until he can see Yuuri’s dress covered stomach, then he leans forward, pressing a lingering kiss there before resting his head on Yuuri’s lap.

“My darling, you know not how happy you have made me. I feel my chest shall burst, my heart is too full.”

Yuuri smiles, but his reply is cut short by a commotion in the enterance hall. Victor gets up and walks to the door, Phichit’s voice coming through clearly once when he opens it.

“Heavens, look at the pair of you! I daresay It’s odd you should come here, Mr Altin, not that you’re not welcome.”

“Come in here and get close to the fire,” Victor says, presumably to Otabek and Yurio. A moment later they enter the living room. Yuuri gasps when he sees Yurio, soaked and lip split and wearing torn clothes. 

He stumbles and Victor swoops in to help Otabek ease him onto the sofa. 

“What happened?” Victor demands.

Yurio glares up at him, tight-lipped. Just when Yuuri thinks they’re not going to get an answer, Otabek speaks up. 

“An alpha wrestling club. Yuri got dragged into a fight. I got him out, but the proprietor took offense.”

“Good god,” Phichit says, setting down a tray of tea and beginning to pour. “Whatever made the two of you go there?”

There’s another lapse of silence, until… “It was my idea,” Yurio says. 

“Foolish boy,” Victor stands, wiping a hand over his face. Then he turns, pointing at his younger cousin. “Be glad you were already given punishment by being there, for it makes me hesitate to deal out my own on you.”

Yurio averts his eyes, huddling further into the sofa. “Victor,” Yuuri says, slowly letting out calming pheromones, though he wonders whether it will work in a room full of alphas. “I’m sure Yurio has learned a valuable lesson from this, and would be grateful to receive some mercy.”

There’s a sound of agreement from Phichit and he passes a cup of tea to Yuuri, and then to Yurio. Victor’s entire demeanor softens as he meets Yuuri’s gaze, arms hanging loosely at his sides. Warm affection and devotion flows trickles through their bond, making Yuuri’s heart skip a beat.

“Oi,” Yurio says, interrupting, “Why are you two smiling like that? It’s strange.”

Indeed, they both had started smiling. “Well,” Yuuri says his hand unconsciously coming up to rest over his stomach, “We have some news to share.”

....................

_ September 10th, 1813 _

Yuuri can’t help but fiddle nervously with the ties of his robe. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Victor’s voice comes from where he’s seated on the bed. Yuuri looks up.

“No!” He says quickly, “I want to. I’ve missed you so much and I want to feel you. I’m just… worried.”

Slowly, Victor holds his hand out and Yuuri lets go on his robe to put his hand in Victor’s. He’s tugged forward until he stands in-between the spread legs of his husband. He exhales when the alpha leans forward and presses a kiss to the hollow of his throat. 

“It will be fine, my darling,” he murmurs, his voice and scent calming. His other hand comes up to rest on Yuuri’s stomach. “We can go slow and be gentle.”

Something in Yuuri’s chest swells. “For the baby,” he says.

The grin Victor flashes him is both happy and wicked and very quickly Yuuri finds himself picked up and rolled over on the bed, his mate leaning over him. “For the baby,” Victor murmurs, his lips grazing over Yuuri’s. “And for you.”

He arches up, pressing their lips more firmly together as his hands come up to roam over the alpha’s shoulders and chest. He licks into his husbands mouth as his hands travel lower, fingers wrapping around the thick, hard appendage.

Victor gasps into his mouth, teeth nipping at Yuuri’s lower lip. His hands come down to undo the tie of Yuuri’s thin robe, and his lips moving to Yuuri’s shoulder as he pushes the material back. Gently, he draws Yuuri’s arms from the sleeves, pressing kisses to his hands and wrists before letting them fall. Yuuri watches as Victor nuzzles his way down Yuuri’s body, tugging up his chamise until it bunches at his waist. He presses lingering kisses over the omegas abdomen and rubs his wrists overs the scent glands on Yuuri’s thigh, until the omega feels overflowing with love and his scent fills the room.

But Yuuri can see the hungry look in his husbands eye and he has little patience. 

“Victor, I need you inside me.” 

His mates pretty lips curve into a smile against his hip and mischief slips through their bond. “Like this?” He asks, and Yuuri feels slender fingers dip into his cunt. 

Yuuri bites his lip, and tries to let out a growl to non-verbally tell Victor to not tease him, but a purr comes out instead. The fingers twist and curl inside him, drawling out pants and whines as they stroke over his walls. Yuuri fists the bedsheets and tries to fuck down on them, get them deeper and harder, his patience running out. He needs something substantially bigger than fingers. “Victor,” he says sharply, “put your cock in me.”

The alpha breathes a laugh over Yuuri’s skin and withdraws his fingers, moving onto all fours and caging Yuuri in. He feels Victor’s erection rub over his hip and he whines, shifting towards it, wanting it in him now. 

“Shh,” Victor says, his hand gripping himself to line up. His lips descend onto Yuuri’s as he slides inside in one, long, smooth stroke, stretching Yuuri wide and filling him deep. He swallows Yuuri’s loud moan. “So good,” Victor praises as he starts moving his hips, dragging his cock out from Yuuri’s pulsing channel before thrusting it back in, “so perfect for me.” 

“You’re—You’re perfect,” Yuuri says, and he feels filled with every soft thrust, his mate splitting him open and rutting against his insides. He gasps as Victor circles his hips, and changes his pace to fast, shallow movements. 

“You’re bearing my pup, darling,” Victor whispers to him, “the fruit of our love.”

The new pace does things to Yuuri, as do his mates words, both hitting him just  _ there  _ and sending him barreling towards his orgasm. Love echoes through their bond and scents and Yuuri feels his body tighten.

“Victor,” he chokes out, “I’m going to come.” 

The alpha shifts, pressing their bodies tighter together and trapping Yuuri’s cocklet between them. “Come for me, Yuuri, let me feel you come undone around me.”

The added stimulation sends him over, his cocklet spurting between them as his cunt clenches down on his alpha’s cock. Gooseflesh breaks out over his body and he gasps, nails digging into his mate. Victor only slows slightly, thrusting gently to prolong Yuuri’s orgasm and forcing him to ride it out while pushing himself over that edge as well. Yuuri gasps again, his pant turning into a moan as he feels his husband spill inside him, painting his walls with a low moan. 

“You didn’t knot,” Yuuri says after a moment of them catching their breath, almost feeling disappointed. One of his favorite things is to feel so perfectly stretched on his alpha’s thick knot. 

“No,” Victor says, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s clavicle, “I didn’t want to overexert you.” 

Yuuri smiles as Victor’s fingers stroke over his features. “You’re kind. My kind, handsome mate. You’ll be the best father.”

He purrs as Victor nuzzles his neck, their two happy, contented scents intertwining around them. “The happiest thing I ever did was meet you, my Yuuri. How can one omega bring an old alpha so much happiness?”

“You’re not old,” Yuuri replies. 

“Just balding.”

Yuuri laughs, “That neither, but even if you were I would love you all the same.” 

Victor’s smile makes him warm and affection bounces between them like a tennis ball. His mates hands stroke over his body, his mouth following, scattering kisses over Yuuri’s skin until the omega pushes him off with a laugh and returns the favor.

....................

_ September 20th, 1813 _

“You’ve danced almost all evening, my darling, wouldn’t you like to take a break?” Victor’s voice is colored with concern, but Yuuri doesn’t think it’s necessary. He wants to dance as much as he can while he can since he won’t be able to for a while once they’ve returned to Petersburg.

He’s about to brush off his mate when Christophe chimes in, “You do look a bit pale, Lord Nikiforov.”

“Do I?” Yuuri says, and takes a breath. Now that he thinks about it, it is a touch hot in the room. Though one could say the reason is the number of people filling it, but his corset is also tight and he could use a drink and fresh air and… “You know, I think I’ll move to one of the less occupied rooms.”

Chris nods and Victor follows him, keeping close to his mate. Victor has stayed at his side constantly, though it drew feelings from Yuuri much less like affection and more like annoyance. 

Yuuri speaks, turning around and facing his husband suddenly, “I think I left my fan with Phichit. Would you be kind enough to retrieve it for me?”

Victor hesitates and through the bond Yuuri can almost feel his internal struggle between guarding or helping his mate, but after a moment he nods and makes back towards where they left Chris and Phichit.

Making his escape quickly, Yuuri doesn’t hesitate to weave through the crowd in the opposite direction and wander through rooms that become less and less occupied the further he goes. He stops and takes a breather, trying to not fiddle with his jewelry as he tries to inconspicuously hide behind a suit of armor. It’s a gaudy thing, unlike the several in Petersburg House. 

He’s content to stay there for a while, glad to be rid of his overbearing mate, until he catches the scent of something both familiar and unfamiliar. 

Leaving his hiding spot, he follows it, trying to figure out whose scent he would know so well and yet wouldn’t. It leads him to a closed door, and while he pauses for a moment, curiosity wins out, his hand turning the knob and the door swinging open before he can even second guess himself.

It dawns on him with sudden clarity, as he sees the rooms occupants, why the scent was both recognizable and not. 

“Oh good god,” he says, as his turns and cups a hand to shield his eyes, wishing he could get the image of Yurio and Otabek purged from his mind. Before he can stop himself he continues, resigned, “Not you two, as well.”

The sound of scrambling is ridiculously loud, Otabek’s “Lord Nikiforov” hilariously out of place.

_ I’ll never be able to look at either of them again _ , Yuuri thinks. Before anything else can be said or done, he hears Victor’s voice down the corridor. 

“Shit,” Yurio curses, having also heard it. 

Yuuri shushes him and backs out of the room, something he should have done a long time ago, closing the door and turning around right as Victor appears. 

“My love,” Victor calls, hurrying over. “Why are you all the way over here?”

"I started wandering and got lost in thought.” Yuuri prays that Victor won't smell the two alphas on the other side of the door.

Victor takes his hand, placing the previously requested fan in his palm. “You wandered to the other side of Lord Leroy’s home, my dearest.”

“Did I?” Yuuri asks airily, he fans himself, letting his scent out a bit more than usual. “My apologies, Victor. Would you be so kind as to escort me back?”

Victor’s smile is relieved and he offers a gallant arm to the omega. Yuuri takes it, letting his mate lead him back to the ball. He spends the rest of the evening trying to figure out if he should say anything to Victor about it, and when Yurio and Otabek appear a short while later he finds himself have to hold back a laugh at their matching blushes. Perhaps he will let Victor discover that secret on his own.

**Author's Note:**

> *youtuber voice* What's up gamers, if you liked this fic don't forget to smash that kudos button, leave a comment, and click that subscribe for more content. ♡ you!


End file.
